


In These Unkown Woods

by Sterling_Starlight



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: No beta I am a sleep deprived potato, Other, Second person experiment, in any case Wirt and the Reader have some stuff to work out, might become a full story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 15:34:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21121112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sterling_Starlight/pseuds/Sterling_Starlight
Summary: When you were little, you and Wirt promised to stay friends forever. Now your friendship is in a million pieces, and you have to help him and Greg find your way home. Between the forest itself seeming to be hellbent on trapping you forever, and your tense relationship with the older brother, that is easier said than done.





	In These Unkown Woods

**Author's Note:**

> once I got started I couldn’t stop. Whether or not I make this a full story, I hope you enjoy the read.

“So, Ms. Cheer Captain,” 

You looked up at the sound of Kathleen’s voice through the changing curtain. You were almost positive that she was smiling coyly. She tossed you her shirt carelessly, and you fumbled to catch it. “Have you asked anyone to the Halloween party?” 

“Still no,” You said with a sigh, folding Kathleen’s shirt neatly. “My answer hasn’t changed since the last time you asked.”

“I’m just looking out for you and your social life,” Kathleen returned with a click of her tongue. “Sooner or later the guys will get bored of your hard-to-get act.”

“Kath, I hardly have time to get a real costume, let alone a boyfriend,” you replied, leaning your head against the wall.

“Oh? So you can organize a benefit concert for cheer, but you can’t find a guy? Yeah, not buying it.” Kathleen said. She whipped the changing curtain open, standing before you in a knee-high purple dress spotted with red flowers. She turned her back to you, moving her hair out of the way. “Could you zip me up?”

You stood up and did as she asked, frowning as the zipper got stuck. 

“I mean, I’d suggest Wirt just so you don’t have to go through the _travesty _of going to the biggest party of the season alone. But...”

You jerked the zipper up sharply. “Done.” You announced, cutting her off. Kathleen’s vanity took over her love of juicy stories, and she continued to admire herself in the mirror, turning this way and that with contemplative hums. 

————-

It was hard to keep students motivated when their team was losing so definitively. Even some members of your squad looked dejected when you weren’t performing your routines. The away team, by contrast, were as hyped up as sugar-high kids on Christmas. Their cheer team fed that excitement with a loud, energetic routine that had almost everyone in their bleachers roaring. 

From beside you, Sara whistled lowly. 

“Well, might as well try and salvage _some _school spirit.” She took the head off of her bee mascot costume to take a swig of her non-specified sports drink, popped her head back on and hopped enthusiastically onto the field. The fact that she was so spry in a costume that was twice her age never ceased to amaze you. Sure, you could to flips and spins and balance another girl in the palm of your hand; but dance in a costume that seemed like it would rip to pieces at any moment? Absolutely not. 

“I’m going for a water run,” You announced to your squad. “Any takers?” A collection of sports bottles, all decorated in a rainbow of stickers, were passed over to you. As you were walking back from the water fountain, hands full of full bottles, you heard Kathleen squeal in that way you were all too familiar with.

“Wirt’s gotta crush on Sa~ra~” She goaded. You turned your head to see her with two of her other friends, Rhondi and what’s-her-face. She was holding a cassette tape over her head, out of reach from the target of her teasing: Wirt. He was dressed as a... gnome? Not the best costume, but then again you were hardly one to judge. Your costume wasn’t much better. You wanted nothing more than to ignore the scene all together, but a child’s voice calling your name stopped you.

“Hi!” Wirt’s little brother, Greg, greeted you happily, oblivious to the distress of his brother. “Hey, do you know Sara the Bee? You can give Wirt’s tape to her!”

“Wow, that’s such a great idea,” Kathleen turned to you, smiling wickedly. “How about it?” 

You looked at Wirt, who looked back at you pleadingly. Whatever was on that tape, he didn’t want Sara to know about it. You might have had a falling out with him, but that didn’t mean you were cruel. 

“Absolutely not.” You said curtly before continuing your chore. Over the crowd, you should hear Kathleen scoff at your dismissal, and Rhondi mention something about Jason Funderberker. Whatever, it wasn’t your business. 

————-

Your team had lost. Spectacularly. Despite such a crushing defeat, the Halloween after party was just as lively as it would have been otherwise. Your costume was a simple, beige colonial-style dress with a white apron embroidered with flowers and a matching bonnet. It clashed horribly with the very not-period appropriate cheer jacket you wore; but you’d rather look a little weird than be cold. 

You carried on a partially one-sided conversation as you slipped on warm non-spiked apple cider. As far as your parents were concerned, this was just a normal high school Halloween party; if they knew sneaking into the graveyard was involved, you’d be grounded for the rest of your high school career. And if they found out you drank alcohol on top of that? You’d be signing your social life’s death warrant. You decided it would be better to play it relatively safe. 

You excused yourself to get some more un-spiked cider before it became spiked, but were once again stopped by Greg calling your name. 

“Hi again!” He hugged your leg in greeting. “We just keep on meetin’ tonight, huh?” 

“Greg, why are you alone?” You asked, kneeling down to his level. Your stomach churned. You knew Greg had a tendency to wander off, and that Wirt had a tendency to _not care. _If he had left Greg all alone on Halloween, you and Wirt were going to have a long talk. 

“I’m not alone, Wirt is with me!” Greg pointed to the window. Wirt sucked down beneath the windowsill, but his tall cone hat destroyed any hope of hiding. The other kids saw him too, and urged him to come inside and join the party. He burst in the house, flustered.

“Hey-so-whatever-he-said-isn’t-true!” He spat out in one anxious breath. The students simply welcomed him to the party. Someone pressed a cup into his hands and then rejoined their social group. “O-oh. Okay then.” Wirt mumbled. He looked down into his cup, and you cleared your throat.

“I wouldn't drink that. It’s probably spiked.”

“Spiked? What does that mean?” Asked Greg, tugging on the hem of your dress. He gasped suddenly, “Does that mean it has a spike of fruity-flavored goodness? Wirt, I wanna try!” Greg bounded over to his brother, but was stopped by Wirt pressing his hand against his forehead. 

“No-no. This is a grown-up drink, Greg.” Wirt dismissed. He leaned back and tossed the contents of the cup onto the lawn. Greg boo’d and pouted. Wirt stepped around his brother and approached you. “So, um... do you know where Sara is?”

“Kitchen,” you jerked your thumb over your shoulder in that direction. 

Wirt gave you a small smile. “Thanks.” And with that, he brushed past you and fast walked to the kitchen. You tried not to let his easy dismissal bother you. 

——————

You tugged your jacket tighter around your shoulders as you and the brave few others marched through the graveyard. You didn’t believe in ghosts, but being in a graveyard on _Halloween _just felt like an invitation to be haunted for the rest of your life. If not by an angry spirit, than by your grandma condemning you for acting like a delinquent. With your nerves as frayed as they were, you completely blocked out Sara comforting Jason Funderberker for... something. 

The perfect spot for your activities was found, and you all sat in a circle. Karen the chicken girl had brought a lantern and placed it in the middle to emulate a campfire while Scott the tv head opened a bottle of age-appropriate drink. 

“So, who wants to tell the first story?” Sara asked the group, challenging. 

Jason Funderberker raised his hand. “I’ll go.” He announced. He cleared his throat and lowered the pitch of his voice. It probably was supposed to sound ominous, but it sounded even more like he had an actual frog in his throat. “Once, years ago, there was a lumberjack who lived in this very town. In _your _house!” He pointed across the circle at you. Karen gasped and looked at you like you actually were harboring a lumberjack in your house. You rolled your eyes. Jason Funderberker continued, “one foggy night, he had come home after a long day of lumberjack-ing. He crept into his house, only to find his wife possessed!” He paused for dramatic effect. “She grabbed an ax and got closer to the lumberjack... and closer.... and closeeeeerrrrrrrr.” He leaned over and put his hands on Sara’s with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

“Bbbbbrrrrrrr! Brrrrrrfff-pht-pht-pht!”

You all turned to see Greg, waving his tea kettle about. “Bewaaaaaaare~ I’m the headless eeeeellllleeeppphaaaaaaant! Oooooooooo! I mean- brrrrrrrrrfff!” He spun on the ball of his foot with a surprising amount of grace as he drummed his tiny fingernails against the tea kettle. He was doing his best to look scary but, dang it, he was too adorable. You and the rest of the group laughed. 

“Hey, is Wirt with you?” Sara asked in between laughter. 

“Yeah! He’s over there!” Greg pointed to the tombstone Wirt was unsuccessfully hiding behind. He must have known that gnome hat was a dead give away... right? His cover blown, Wirt stood up. 

“Greg! There you are. I just came to get him. Totally didn’t follow you guys like a creep.”

“We followed you to creep on frogs! Graveyard frogs!” Greg announced happily. Wirt groaned and buried his face in his hands. 

The joyful moment was ruined when the headlights of a police cruiser blinded you. Panic seemed to electrify you from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair as the officer announced that you were _all _under arrest. You scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over your dress and ran. You retained enough sense to know the larger groups were always caught first, and darted after Wirt and Greg. Neither seemed to notice you until you came to a screeching halt at a wall. 

“Greg! Why’d you tell us to go this way; this is a dead end! And you,” Wirt turned on you, “why did you follow us? You’re going to get us-!”

Wirt’s fears were confirmed when the police cruiser drove over to you, boxing the three of you in. 

“Hey kids, this is private property!” The officer announced.

More frightened of what would happen if your parents found out you had been caught by the police, than you were of the ramifications of _running from _the police, you scrambled up a nearby tree. Wirt followed, and you reached down to help Greg the rest of the way up. “Oh for goodness- it’s dangerous up there! You’ll fall and hurt yourselves!”

Greg securely in your arms, you let yourself fall down the other side of the wall. It was a rough landing, and you were glad you had decided to wear sneakers rather than colonial footwear. 

Greg giggled merrily, “This is the best frog hunt ever! There was a dramatic chase, you’re here-” a deep, resounding croak echoed from somewhere in the bushes and Greg gasped. He wiggles free from your grasp and dove into the bushes. 

Wirt landed behind you and groaned. “Great. Once again Greg _ruins _everything!” 

You turned to him, frowning. “Excuse me? How is all of this Greg’s fault?” You questioned. You knew where this conversation was going; it always ended the same. 

“Oh, let me count the ways: running off to give Sara that tape when I _specifically _told him not to. Making it harder for me to get the tape back. Making me run all over town-”

“If you didn’t want Sara to have the tape, why’d you bring it to the game?”

“Well I was going to - I wanted -!” He gave and aggravated sound and tugged at his hair. “My point is, he makes my life harder. Him and my stupid step-dad; pressuring me to join marching band!”

“Hey, yeah!” Greg called out from the bushes. He crawled out of the brush, a surprisingly docile frog clutched to his chest. “If you joined marching band, you’d get to spend more time with Sara the Bee and our neighborino here.” Greg nodded to you, “And then you two would be best friends again.”

You and Wirt spoke at the same time,

“Greg, it’s not that-”

“_Those _ships have sailed, Greg. Thanks to you messing that up, too.” 

You glared hotly at Wirt. He withered under your intense stare, previous animosity forgotten. “Okay, enough. I am sick and tired of you blaming Greg. As soon as he was born, you became a selfish, callous jerk who only thinks about _you,_and _your_problems.You have a little brother who practically worships the ground you walk on. _Poor you.” _You sighed heavily, cursing the tears you felt burning in the corners of your eyes. “**You’re **the reason we aren’t friends anymore; not him.” 

Saying it aloud made the pain of your ruined relationship feel fresh. Wirt must have felt it too, since he looked down at his feet, expression somewhere between hurt and frustrated. He huffed. 

“Whatever. I’m going home.” His storming off dramatically was stopped by the loud, piercing sound of a train whistle. You realized, with cold dread clawing at your stomach, that you were standing on railroad tracks. The steam train rounded the bend, smoking and howling and clattering like a creature out of hell. Over the cocophany of noise you barely heard Wirt tell you to jump out of the way. You did as commanded, but found no solid ground beneath your feet. When you landed, your ankle buckled painfully under your weight and sent you crsshing to the ground. The world was a blend of pain and darkness and confusion and fear as you tumbled down the hill. For all you knew, you had just chosen another way to die. 

Your head hit a rock with a sickening smack, and your ears rung. The last thing you were aware of before the abyss claimed you was falling into something bitingly cold.


End file.
